


The Sound of Breaking Ice

by Acidqueen (syredronning)



Series: Romulan Commander series [2]
Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-12
Updated: 2010-11-12
Packaged: 2017-10-13 04:28:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/132841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syredronning/pseuds/Acidqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are more casualties as McCoy tries to get a grip on his life again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sound of Breaking Ice

**Author's Note:**

> This is the sequel to "Casualties". Reading the prequel is recommended. Many thanks to Roadstergal for her great beta! All remaining errors are mine.  
> Originally posted April 2007.

Kirk strode along the corridor of the hospital. It was not the Fleet hospital, but a civilian station; when he had found McCoy in that crate, it had been the better choice, as it was situated not far from his apartment. The alerted ambulance had briefly checked on the barely-conscious body before declaring him fit for beaming. Kirk had stayed behind for a moment, aiding the arriving police with everything he felt comfortable giving them, which was very little. The only information he had was safely stored in his pocket, but he didn't feel like sharing it with officials right away. First, he needed to hear more from McCoy.

He walked around a corner and faced the information desk, where he stopped and asked for the whereabouts of Dr. Leonard McCoy.

"Who are you, sir?" the orderly asked.

"I'm James Kirk, his friend, and authorized to speak on his behalf in case of medical emergencies. Here's my authorization." He handed him the data disc which McCoy had recorded shortly before taking his extended leave from Starfleet. They had never thought it would be needed. In retrospect, it had been a good decision.

"Thank you, sir," the man said, and gave the disc back. "His attending doctor will be available in a minute."

"Actually, he's already here," the man on the other end of the table said, looking up from a padd. "I'm Dr. Teaks." He shook hands with Kirk.

"This way, sir," the doctor said. They went down a long corridor.

"How is he?" Kirk asked.

"He was severely dehydrated, but responded well to infusions. He also has some muscle and sinew damage due to the transportation, but will soon recover." The doctor's features turned more serious when they entered a little anteroom. He closed the door.

"There is no proof of any other torture or abuse, but considering the circumstances under which he has been found…"

Kirk nodded serenely. "I understand. Did he say anything about what happened?"

"Not yet. We're expecting the police later, but so far he has not been really responsive." The doctor opened the door. "You've got five minutes. If his answers don't make much sense, that's due to his dehydration. No reason to worry. It will pass."

"Thanks, Dr. Teaks."

Kirk stepped into the room. It was dim, with the sun kept outside by the blinkers. The sole occupant lay on the bed, hidden under two thermo blankets.

"Jim…" McCoy weakly opened his eyes as Kirk took the hand that peeked out from under the fabric.

"Bones. You gave me quite a shock. I was informed four days ago that you were missing, but I couldn't do a thing about it. Damn glad to have you back."

"Thanks."

Kirk sat down next to him. He gazed at the closed door, then bent forward to whisper, "There were a note and a data chip inside the crate. I took them away before the police came. Guessed you wouldn't want them to have it right away."

McCoy blinked. "A note?"

"From the Romulan Commander. You can read it later." Kirk clasped his hand tightly. "I'm so sorry, Bones, that you had to take the fallout of that wretched espionage plan." He hesitated for a moment. "Bones…did she do anything to you?"

"Not as much as she could've done," McCoy whispered.

"Really?" Kirk said, a dozen questions on his lips. "But I can see you're tired." He rubbed his friend's cold fingers. "Rest, Bones. And when you're allowed to leave, you can stay with me, if you want to."

"Sure." McCoy smiled weakly and closed his eyes.

When Kirk left the room, the police were once again waiting for him. "Admiral, did you learn anything that could help us?" the officer asked.

"Not at the moment," Kirk said. "Give Dr. McCoy some time for recovery, please. Then he'll answer your questions as good as he can."

"The best time for investigation is usually right after the crime happened."

"Yes, but since the crate took possibly a day to get delivered to me, you're already lagging behind," Kirk said, trying to be reasonable. "At least you have the crate."

The officer nodded. "He's going to stay with you when released from the hospital?"

"Yes."

"Then please give me your number and address, sir."

Kirk typed it into the officer's padd, then quickly left the hospital to make some preparations.

*

On the next evening, Kirk fetched McCoy from the hospital. He had brought civilian clothes, a sweater and jeans, which were too large for McCoy's thin body. Nevertheless, they didn't conceal his friend's rather awkward and stiff movements.

"Anything wrong?" Kirk asked concerned.

"Had a lot of cramps on the transport," McCoy replied. "Which were actually a lot more painful than…anything else." They slowly left the hospital.

Kirk helped him into his ground car and started the engine. "I've taken a week off, but I may have to pop into HQ once in a while."

"That's very nice of you," McCoy said. "No problem at all."

None of them spoke while Kirk guided the car around some corners before driving into an underground garage. "The hospital told me the police had talked to you," Kirk said at last when the engine was off.

"Yes."

"Did you tell them about her…?"

"No," McCoy said. "Not yet."

"Okay," was all Kirk replied. They left the car and took the lift to Kirk's apartment. It looked almost the way McCoy remembered it — however, it looked a bit more inhabited than before.

"I prepared the guest room for you," Kirk said.

"Thanks." McCoy put his bag away, then returned. He walked idly through the apartment, eyeing the decorations on the walls. "Who's that?" he asked, pointing to a picture of a woman who appeared in several other shots. "The girlfriend you talked about? Lori?"

"Yes."

"Where is she?"

"She's visiting her parents at the moment."

McCoy walked to the next picture; it had Jim and Lori side by side in a ceremony which looked suspiciously like —

"You got married?" he asked, surprised.

"Only a one year contract, but, yes. Two months ago."

"Well, belated congratulations," McCoy said and ended his walk abruptly, sinking down on one of the low chairs near the fireplace. "Don't think I got an invitation."

"Sorry. We had a very small ceremony, only us and another couple." Kirk waved to the nearby cabinet. "Anything to drink? Bourbon? Scotch? Romulan Ale?"

McCoy shook his head. "Just water, please."

"It'll be right up." Kirk fetched a glass and a flask of fresh water from the kitchen for McCoy, then poured a whiskey for himself. He could use it.

He sat down into the other chair, stretching his legs. For a while, none of them talked.

"How was I…delivered?" McCoy asked finally. "I can't remember much."

"The crate was addressed to me, but since I wasn't home, it stood at the doorman's lounge for another two hours. Then he called me and told me there was a rather large crate for me, obviously with a live animal inside, and I should come home and take care of it. Didn't believe him at first, and was very reluctant to open it, but then…" Kirk rotated his drink in his hand. "The poor guy was really shocked. I had to phone the police and the ambulance myself."

"And then you took the note and the disc."

"Yes."

"Thank you." McCoy sank a little deeper into the chair, clutching his glass of water. "Can I read the note?"

"Sure. It was addressed to me." Kirk went to pick it from his desk and gave it to his friend. McCoy put his glass aside to take it into his hands.

Kirk remembered every word of it.

 _"Some may call it pure chance that I spotted Dr. Leonard McCoy at Luna Station. I consider it fate, as it allowed me to take revenge for past harm done to me and the Romulan people — the people I still see as mine._

He settled your and Spock's debts with his suffering. I consider my revenge fulfilled and will remain quiet about the events as long as you do not try to find me.

See it as the second casualty in an undeclared war — one that restores balance."

Below it there was a beautiful Romulan calligraphy, but Kirk doubted it was her signature.

When McCoy had read the note, he diligently folded it once, twice, more, until it was a neatly little paper pile. Then he put it in his pocket.

"A casualty," Kirk said bitterly. "Great way of putting it."

McCoy didn't reply to that. "Did you watch the disc?" he asked after a moment.

"Bits and pieces," Kirk said. "I wanted to know what we're dealing with. What you were dealing with."

McCoy took his glass again, once more not saying anything. Silence fell between them like lead.

"You can go to bed any time," Kirk finally said. "You look rather tired."

"I'm fine," McCoy replied. "I always loved this ensemble and the fireplace. Reminds me of my aunt's house."

Taking it as a hint, Kirk switched on the fake fire. He also raised the temperature in the room a little and handed his friend a blanket.

"Just going to doze off a little here, okay?" McCoy said.

"Fine by me," Kirk said. "I'm going to work on the console. If you need anything, just call me." He watched McCoy's lids sink down, and experienced a strong wave of affection for his friend. He looked so damn fragile tonight; he hadn't seen Bones look like that ever since…no, he didn't want to remember the Vians.

Though, if he had to compare the events, for all he knew they had only tortured McCoy's body; the Romulan Commander had gone straight for McCoy's soul. Which was a lot harder to take.

He quietly went up to his office corner, dealing with some Bureau needs and starting a little inquiry of his own concerning the whereabouts of the Romulan Commander. He wasn't sure what he wanted to do with — or to — her in case he found her, but it wouldn't be nice.

*

McCoy slept rather restlessly, but whenever Kirk offered to help him to the guestroom, his friend declined. Finally Kirk went to bed himself, letting McCoy sit in front of the fake fire in a brightly illuminated room.

It was almost morning when Kirk went up for a sip of water. He found McCoy sitting upright on the chair, staring into the fire without moving. When Kirk had drunk, he went into the living room and sat down behind him, softly putting his hands around his friend's upper arms. McCoy's shoulders sagged a little, but he didn't draw away. Kirk interpreted this as encouragement and tightened his embrace, pulling McCoy back against his chest.

They sat in silence for a while. "She asked me who my first one has been," McCoy whispered suddenly. "First anal intercourse."

"And?"

"I didn't tell her it had been you. I'm sure she would have cut my balls off or something."

"Probably."

"What do you tell someone when she asks if it's fun…when she's about to abuse you, Jim? How the hell can anyone ask that? And it was fun, at least for my dick. I came. Several times." Kirk could feel the body in his arms starting to shake.

"It's going to be all right," he murmured and soothingly stroked McCoy's chest.

"Absolute dissonance. My body came and my mind only hated it. I…I don't know how to deal with it."

"You'll find a way. You've got to get counseling."

"I know. It's just…" The shaking got more violent, and Kirk took McCoy's shoulders and moved his friend around to face him.

"If you want to cry…"

"I can't. I'm not the crying type. You get rid of that habit after playing the know-it-all, ever-helpful doctor," McCoy said.

"But it would do you some good."

"Great advice. I'll give it back to you the next time you feel like shit."

Kirk didn't know what to reply.

"I'll get some fresh water," McCoy said and slipped out of the embrace.

"I'll go back to bed," Kirk said and left, the moment of openness over.

*

The next morning, Kirk found McCoy still in the chair. On his entry, McCoy jumped up, but sank back once he recognized the intruder. Kirk prepared a little breakfast in the kitchen for them. When the coffee was ready, McCoy joined him and they took their seats on the small table.

"How's it going in the HQ?" McCoy asked, the cup of coffee in his hands.

"Fine."

Kirk saw the blue eyes darting over his face. "Trust me, it's a fine job."

They had had that discussion before, and Kirk was glad when McCoy didn't press the point.

"What did you do on Luna?" Kirk asked in return. "I thought you had your private practice down in South Carolina."

He saw McCoy tensing on getting reminded of the last events. "Sorry for asking —"

"No, it's okay. I was visiting a friend. Actually, it was the last day of my visit. I was almost ready to board the shuttle when she caught me."

"And you didn't see it coming? No warning?"

"None at all." McCoy took a gulp of his coffee. "Not sure it would've helped a lot if I had. You know Vulcanoid strength."

"Yes." There were more questions Kirk liked to ask, but he didn't want to make McCoy feel interrogated.

"What about a walk?"

"No thanks, I don't feel like going outside right now," McCoy said. "I'd rather take a shower."

"You know where the towels are," Kirk said with a smile.

McCoy nodded and took his leave, vanishing into the bathroom.

Shortly afterwards, Kirk was called to the HQ for a meeting. He left a note on the kitchen table and left.

When he returned in the evening, he found his friend taking a shower again. When he peeked into the bathroom, the stall was open, giving him a clear view of McCoy's body. There was no trace to be seen of his ordeal, which made it harder to reconcile McCoy's appearance with the facts.

McCoy turned towards him and froze, clutching the towel in front of his body. "Damn, Jim, you're going to give me a heart attack, sneaking up on me like that."

"Sorry, Bones. Didn't want to disturb you," Kirk said and lifted his hands in an appeasing gesture.

McCoy donned his bathrobe that hung over the stall's wall and stepped into the room, leaving wet footprints in his wake. "Guess I should pay your water bill, considering how much I use up."

"Didn't notice." Kirk shrugged. "I brought something for dinner," he said as he followed McCoy into the living room.

"Your food processor…?"

"Broke this morning."

McCoy shrugged. "Didn't notice."

"You had no lunch?"

"I wasn't hungry." He left to change into normal clothes.

Kirk set up the dinner in the kitchen, and they ate together in silence. Afterwards, McCoy moved to the chair in front of the fireplace again, and Kirk went back to his console for some more work.

It was a while later when Kirk looked up from his console that he noticed McCoy checking the main door. In fact, now that he thought about it, McCoy had done that several times already, whenever he walked back and forth to the bathroom.

"Do you think she'll come for us?" he asked, stirring McCoy out of his thoughts.

"Uh? No," McCoy said, forcing his focus away from the entry. "No," he repeated more firmly and walked back into the living room. "I don't think she will. She got all she wanted. Now she can live happily ever after."

Kirk leaned back in his chair. "Bones…what was your opinion of the mission back then?"

"Then one on which we met the Romulan Commander?"

"Yes."

McCoy drew close and half-sat on Kirk's table, lacing his arms in front of his chest. He sighed. "I hated it. It was exactly the kind of subterfuge I can't stand. And the two of you really gave me a shock. I felt like a loser, that you thought I wouldn't be able to keep my mouth shut and play along."

"It was less us than Starfleet Intelligence who thought that."

"But you agreed."

"It seemed easier at that time."

"Guess you couldn't have said no."

"We could've declined the offer, but we were first choice due to Spock, and, well…at that time it sounded like a good adventure. Something else than the usual star charting," Kirk said ruefully.

"Yes, it obviously was one for you," McCoy said blankly.

"It was never planned to beam her over to us," Kirk defended himself. "But once we had her, we couldn't simply let her go again."

"You never inquired what happened to her afterwards?"

"No. Spock had an eye on that, but after we came back and he left, there were many other pressing issues. And it's not really my hobby to keep track of all the people we've met."

"I see." McCoy rubbed his face, which was meticulously shaved.

"I'm really, really sorry about what happened, Bones," Kirk said quietly, putting his hand on McCoy's thigh as it rested on the edge of the table. "If I could undo it, I would. If she had called and asked for an exchange, I would've agreed instantly."

McCoy put his hand on his friend's shoulder and squeezed. "I know, Jim," he said softly. "She wasn't interested in an exchange. She wasn't interested in your whereabouts either. I had the impression she didn't even know that we had split up, that I was on extended leave and Spock was on Vulcan. I believe her that she didn't plan it. It was fate that she saw me there."

"Fate. The worst of luck, I'd say," Kirk said.

"I'll get over it," McCoy replied and slipped from the table to return to the place in front of the fake fire, where he soon dozed off to spend another night in the bright living room.

*

"I think I'm going to resign from Starfleet," McCoy said when they had coffee the next morning.

"Why should you?" Kirk asked, surprised. "You're on extended leave. You can work in your private practice for ten years before they'll ask you for a final decision."

McCoy stirred the sugar in his coffee. "I always knew that I wouldn't want to come back. I never really fitted into this military organization in the first place."

"I think you fitted very well, those five years we worked together. In a way, it's good that you aren't the classic academy type of officer. Your advice helped me a lot."

"Not as much as Spock's did."

"There were moments for Spock's advice, and moments for yours. He wouldn't ever have come to me with a Finnegal's Folly to heal my bruised ego."

McCoy smiled a little. "Glad to have been of help, Jim."

"And be sure that if I get command of another starship in the future, you'll be the first person I'll call."

"I don't think you'll get back a ship, Jim," McCoy said quietly. "Not now that they've securely chained you to a desk job."

"Never say never," Kirk replied. "It doesn't look like it at the moment, but I haven't given up yet."

McCoy put away his spoon. "But I still won't be there, Jim. I don't want to work for the Fleet anymore. I don't want to get ordered on missions again, put into the hottest spot in the galaxy to fix things that the politicians have broken. Being shoved around like a chess figure on a checkerboard."

"Bones —" Kirk said and took his friend's hand over the table. "We had so many encounters. So many missions. Ups and downs. We were hurt…and we healed. Just because this happened to you now doesn't mean that there will be more of this in the future."

"It's only that one drop too much, okay?" McCoy pulled his hand away.

"After the Vians —"

"I don't want to talk about them, Jim," McCoy said sharply.

"All right." Kirk leaned back.

McCoy took a deep breath. "As long as I'm on leave, they can call me back under some lousy pretense any time. I'm not really a free man as long as they've got a hold on me."

"You make the Fleet sound like a prison."

"It's a military organization."

"It's mostly for exploration and scientific research."

"And some spy business." McCoy went up abruptly. "I'll take a shower." He walked away, leaving Kirk alone at the table.

*

"Sorry," was the first word McCoy said when he returned to the kitchen later, damping and fresh in his bathrobe. "It wasn't fair — what I said."

Kirk looked up from his padd. "No, it wasn't."

"But I still want to resign."

"I won't hold you back."

"You couldn't anyway."

"Obviously not." Kirk returned his concentration to the padd.

McCoy poured himself another cup of coffee, then sat down on the other side of the table. "I need to do some shopping today. Need some new clothes and stuff."

"Sure. There's a big center right down the street."

"I —" McCoy swallowed. "I would appreciate it if you came with me."

Kirk's head darted up. "Of course, Bones," he said. "When do you want to go?"

"As soon as you're ready. Oh, and I need some credits. She got all my credit chips."

"Did you cancel them via the hotline?"

"No, I completely forgot about them until now," McCoy replied blankly. "Damn."

"Let's see." Kirk went to his console in the living-room and quickly found the right place to report the loss.

"She didn't withdraw a penny," he said when he returned. "They're all disabled now. We can get you a new one at the center."

"Thanks, Jim. Don't know what I would do without you right now," McCoy said.

Kirk shrugged. "You'd do the same for me." He examined his friend more closely. "You look awfully tired, Bones. Why don't you go back to bed for an hour to get some more sleep, and then we'll go to the center?"

"Do I look that bad?"

"Yes. Go. I'll wake you up in time."

McCoy gave in and went to his bedroom, leaving the door open.

*

The shopping center was large and crowded, and Kirk could understand that his friend didn't feel comfortable in it. They bought new clothes as quickly as could be managed, then went out into the street again. McCoy kept rather close to his side, and Kirk himself was starting to get a little paranoid, keeping an eye on passing people. When he spotted a female Vulcanoid face, he ushered McCoy into a shop to buy some fruits. When they came out again, he was relieved to find the Vulcan gone.

"Thanks," McCoy said simply.

"You're welcome," Kirk replied and laced his arm into McCoy's when they walked further down the street.

"I don't know how you can live here," McCoy said after a while. "It's all too grey, too big, too hectic for my taste."

"If I had more choice, I might move to somewhere else. But I doubt the HQ will move with me." They stopped to let a group of children pass by.

"So, tell me more about your current practice, Bones. What patients do you treat?"

"Just what an old country doctor does — everything and a little extra," McCoy said. "I'm a regular family doctor."

"No more complex surgery? No more biochemical research?" Kirk asked.

"Well, a little," McCoy admitted with a grin. "Didn't want to get rusty."

"And that means?"

"I'm associated with a nearby hospital where I treat people with neuronal damage and give a course or two on neuronal crafting. It took me a while to arrange the vacation on Luna." A shadow fell over his face.

"So there are some patients waiting for you?" Kirk asked.

McCoy nodded. "Yes. But I didn't feel like reading my messages so far."

"If you want to, just use my console. I can set up a second account on it for you."

"That would be great."

They returned to the apartment, and the account was ready in no time. Kirk was relieved to see McCoy working through a pile of messages, for once occupied with something not connected to the latest events. It added to his relief when he later spotted the doctor drinking a whiskey. Things were improving, he thought, and had a drink as well before repairing the food replicator. He didn't want to get too rusty, either.

When it was working again, he went into the living room.

"What do you want to have tonight, Bones?" he asked.

"No idea," McCoy replied with a shrug, his eyes fixed on the screen.

"Then you've got to eat my garlic chicken. Vampire-proof."

McCoy couldn't help laughing. "Sounds good."

The chicken was quickly prepared and, surrounded by rice and vegetables, ready for consumption. As usual they ate in the kitchen, and McCoy managed half the portion before giving up. "That was great, Jim," he said with a relaxed sigh as he leaned back in his chair. "Haven't had something that good in a long time."

"Glad to hear that," Kirk said, finishing the last leftovers on his own plate. "Coffee now?"

"Sure," McCoy said, and helped clean the kitchen. They had the coffee in the living room, and soon McCoy dozed off in the chair. However, when Kirk went up to leave, McCoy snapped out of the nap and went up too. "Gotta try a real bed tonight," he said sleepily and tottered towards his bedroom.

"Sleep well, Bones," Kirk said and went to his own. There was "War and Peace" on his bedside table, an old, heavy edition from the 19th century, and he took it to bed with him, wallowing in the unique smell these old books had. He read for a while and was just considering switching off the light when he heard noises from the other room. In the wink of an eye, he hurried over, opening the closed door. The room was dark and filled with McCoy's moaning. Kirk switched on the light and went to his friend's bed, sitting down next to him.

"Bones." Kirk shook him. "Wake up."

McCoy startled awake and, after staring at him in visible confusion for a moment, asked, "Jim?"

"Yes. Everything okay? You just had a nightmare."

"I…yes." McCoy combed his hand through his hair. It was wet from sweat. "Sorry for waking you up."

"No problem," Kirk replied. ""Do you want to talk about it?" he added softly, hoping that there was enough encouragement in his words to let McCoy vent some of his internal pressure. For a second his friend looked as if he would, but then he shook his head. "No, thanks Jim."

Kirk nodded. "Do you want to keep on the light?"

"No. But you could open the blinders for me."

Kirk went up and did as asked. The nightly sky over SanFran was bright enough to illuminate the room to a medium grey when he switched off the light.

"That's great. Thanks, Jim." McCoy sank back into the cushion with a sigh.

"Good night, Bones," Kirk said and left again, leaving the door a little open.

*

"The police called," Kirk said late the next morning when McCoy came back from yet another shower. "They wanted to ask if you got any more information. Their investigation into the crate brought no results so far."

"I've got nothing more to say," McCoy said, rubbing his hair with a small towel.

"Bones — you're not helping things. You should give them the disc. Or at least tell them how you ended in the crate. That's not in the material. You're hiding something."

"So what?" McCoy asked flatly.

Kirk frowned deeply. "Don't you want to get her prosecuted? Has it something to do with that honor stuff?"

"Fuck honor, Jim — it's my reputation I want to keep!" McCoy wildly waved his right arm. "Can you imagine how they'd talk behind my back at SFM if it made it into the headlines? How people would either avoid me or give me their deepest regrets in whispered words in the corridor? I don't want to live with that."

"But if you don't press charges, she'll get away with it. And worse, she could still target me or Spock."

"Spock's safe on Vulcan, for eternity, and you…no, the thing's a done deal for her. She got her revenge, I got hurt. She only let me live to make you feel guilty and hurt too. But I will heal, Jim. With or without her prosecution. It will just take some time."

Kirk shook his head through all of McCoy's statement. "I don't think it's a good idea."

"Jim — if you go and press charges in my name, I'm going to leave Earth."

That rendered Kirk speechless for a moment. Then he found words again. "Bones, I can't believe it. We're living in the 23rd century. Every woman who gets raped is advised to press charges — and you are trying to hide it as if we lived in the stone age of emancipation?"

He saw McCoy wince at his word choice, which only made him repeat it. "Rape, Bones. Plain and simple. It may not be obvious in a medical checkup, but it's all in the recordings. Just because you didn't fight her doesn't make it consensual."

"Guess for some it would," McCoy said darkly. "No matter what you say, Jim, I'm not going to do it."

"Maybe you don't want to go to court, but we can find another way to get a hold on her —"

"Jim, you've read her note. If we do anything, she's going to publish the material, and I'm damn sure she would. It would please her like nothing else. Can you imagine the pictures they'd publish in the magazines? The excerpts from the recordings that would surely find their way into the net?"

"Okay," Kirk relented when he saw McCoy's agitated state. "I can understand that you don't want to face that. Just give yourself more time to think over it, okay? We've got all the proof we need. If you want to press charges, you can do that for the next dozen years, I think."

"I'm not going to stay a victim that long, Jim. I've got every intention to end this state as quickly as possible."

"Right," Kirk said. "By forcing yourself to sleep in a bed in a dark room again? Don't tell me that's your idea of self-therapy, because that's going to crash-land like the Hindenburg."

"The what?" McCoy asked with a frown.

"An old air ship type. Never mind." Kirk went up too, facing his friend. "Think about, Bones."

McCoy shook his head. "I've made my decision." He turned and went to his room, closing the door with a noisy thud.

"Damn," Kirk muttered and punched the nearest wall. It hurt a little, but it was better than following his impulse and shaking some sense into Bones. Then he left the apartment.

*

They met in a nearby park; the shadows of the trees were already long, darkening the gravel path.

"Ambassador Sarek," Kirk greeted the man. The Vulcan's bodyguards stayed in the background, and he ignored them. "Admiral. How unfortunate to meet under these conditions," Sarek said. "This is the package that was sent to my son."

Kirk took it and opened it briefly, examining the note and the disc. "Thank you. I assumed she would send something to Spock."

Sarek nodded slightly. "The instant I saw what the disc contained, I informed you."

They walked a few steps in silence.

"How is the doctor?" the Vulcan inquired.

"He holds himself as well as can be expected," Kirk said. "But he wants to let her get away with it."

"Interesting. An almost Vulcan attitude." Sarek laced his fingers in front of his robe.

Kirk paused in his steps. "You think so?"

"As far as I can deduce, the attacker saw it as a repayment of debts. It is only logical to end it here, now that balance seems to be achieved."

"I can't agree with you, Ambassador. Would a Vulcan let such a violation go unpunished?"

"Does your own planet not have a law on revenge from one of your religious founders? If I remember correctly, the Sermon on the Mount said, 'whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also.'" Kirk stared at him. "Yes, that's what Christians believe in. But I'm not religious, and I definitely don't think that what we did to her gave her the right for this revenge — on McCoy, of all persons, who wouldn't harm a hair on somebody's head. We were engaged in an undeclared war with the Romulans, but this… this was a brutal assault justifiable by nothing. If I have any say in it, she's going to pay for it."

Sarek kept silent for a moment. "But in the end, it is the doctor's choice, is it not?"

"Yes," Kirk replied flatly, "it is his decision. I can only hope he'll reconsider it."

They turned around, walking back the way they had come. Kirk didn't ask about Spock — if Sarek knew anything new, he would say so. But considering where Spock had gone, there was little chance for that.

"Live long and prosper, Admiral Kirk," Sarek said serenely. "May we meet again under more satisfying circumstances. Send my best wishes to the Dr. McCoy."

Kirk nodded. "I will. It has been nice to see you, Ambassador. Send my regards to Lady Amanda." They parted, and Kirk waited until the Vulcans had gone out of sight before he walked home.

*

"I'm back," Kirk announced when he opened the door to his apartment half an hour later, but nobody answered him. "Bones?" He looked through all the rooms, but there was that special silence in the air that told him that McCoy was gone — as well as the second key card to his apartment door.

Kirk's first impulse was to take his cell phone and call McCoy's number — before he realized that, of course, his friend's cell phone had been taken by the Romulan, just like the credit chips.

He quietly swore to himself as he snapped the instrument closed. He didn't know what to do. He had no idea where McCoy might have gone and if he had gone on his own choice. Bones was highly prone to manipulation at the moment; Kirk could imagine the Romulan Commander calling his apartment and putting a virtual gun on McCoy's head. But the phone list showed no calls at all, so he was left with no hint.

He gave himself an hour before he'd call the police.

Half of that time had gone by when he heard the small sound of someone unlocking the door with a code card.

"Bones!" Kirk jumped up from his console and rushed to the door. "Why didn't you leave a note?" he asked angrily, and shut the door behind McCoy.

"I didn't?" McCoy asked confused.

"No, you didn't," Kirk said with a glare.

"I wanted to, but I must have forgotten it. I'm sorry, Jim." McCoy put a small bag down on the kitchen table. "Don't know — I had a sudden urge to go and buy a new phone."

"Without me."

"Yes." McCoy avoided Kirk's gaze. "Can't sit in your lap forever, can I?"

Kirk sat down on a kitchen chair, watching McCoy setting up the new phone for a while. "I've met Sarek today, by chance," he finally said. "He sends you his best wishes."

McCoy frowned. "Sarek? Now that's a rare one. Have you been to a reception in the short time you've been gone?" Suddenly his eyes widened in realization. "She tried to send something to Spock."

For a second Kirk considered denying it, but McCoy always managed to call him on his lies. He had a seventh sense for deception. "Yes. But it's here now."

"Did he…?"

"Only enough to learn what it was about," Kirk said.

"Give them to me."

"What?"

"The discs and notes. All of them."

"And what do you want to do with them?" Kirk asked. "Destroy the evidence? That won't destroy your memories, Bones, only the means with which you could press charges."

"You've got no right to keep them away from me. Give me the discs!" McCoy said sharply.

"Sure." Kirk went to the office and returned with the two discs and the second note. He threw them on the table. "They're all yours."

McCoy took them. "You got a copy?" he asked.

"No," Kirk said. When he saw McCoy's critical gaze, he added, "You're welcome to scan my console. I think you're doing a big mistake and I hope you won't just destroy them, but it's your decision — and your life."

"Yes." McCoy went up and put everything in his pocket. Then he turned to leave

"Bones, damn…" Kirk said seriously. "I'm not the enemy. You don't have to fight me."

McCoy stopped. "I know. Sorry, Jim." His fingers involuntarily touched the pocket. "No idea what I'm going to do with them, but I want them under my control."

Kirk nodded. "I can understand that."

"Thanks."

"What about pasta tonight?" Kirk said.

"I'm not hungry," McCoy replied.

"You need —" Kirk started, but then there was a call on his console and he went to answer it. It was Lori, and he took the mobile unit to his bedroom to chat in private.

It was a long call, and when Kirk finished, there was the smell of food in the air.

"You cooked?" he asked McCoy as he entered the kitchen, though it was only a rhetorical question, considering the two plates of pasta that greeted him.

"Yes. How's your wife?"

"Fine."

They sat down face to face.

"I killed your vacation, right?" McCoy asked suddenly.

"Why do you think that?" Kirk asked back.

"Usually, it's hard for admirals to take a few free days out of the blue. And you wouldn't have been able to give them a good reason for special leave."

Kirk poked his fork into the spaghetti. "You're right. We should've left the day after you arrived here. But I absolutely couldn't leave you alone, so we agreed that she'd spend her vacation with her parents."

"Hm-m." McCoy shoved the food around without eating.

"It's not that bad," Kirk joked.

"I know. One of my favorite recipes." Nevertheless, McCoy put down his cutlery. "I just don't feel like eating."

"I wish I had your reaction to stress," Kirk said. "I always eat more when I feel bad." Proving his point, he heartily addressed the pasta.

"Wouldn't mind a body switch," McCoy said, somewhat absent-mindedly. Then he rubbed his face. "Think I'm going to take a nap, if that's all right by you."

"Sure," Kirk said. When McCoy left, he waited for a moment to hear the bedroom door close, then went to his console. Just as he had surmised, McCoy seemed to have taken a look at the discs. No surprise it had left him unable to eat, Kirk thought with a sigh. He returned to the kitchen, but the two plates of rapidly cooling food didn't look very inviting anymore. He put the pasta in a box into the fridge and cleaned away the traces of their interrupted dinner before sitting down on his console for some work.

*

McCoy didn't resurface again over the next few hours, and Kirk hoped that he slept a little at least, without really believing it. After a while he went to his own bedroom and left the door open. He sank into a light slept until midnight, when some movement outside alerted him. He slipped out of bed and donned a shirt and pants before going into the living room.

It took him a moment to find McCoy on the little balcony of the apartment, leaning against the handrail with both hands closed over it.

"What are you up to, Bones?" Kirk asked. His tone was jovial, but he fully meant his question.

"Just enjoying the view," McCoy replied, looking down the balcony's front to the water. "It's awfully high, isn't it?"

"Yes, 20th floor." Kirk drew close and, out of impulse, put his hands on McCoy's upper arms. McCoy wore only a short-sleeved shirt, which surely had to be too thin for the night breeze, and his arms felt strange as Kirk rubbed along them. Must be the cool skin, or —

"You shaved your arms?"

"I shaved everything. I…felt like." McCoy whispered and, after a moment, added, "If I could, I would tear my skin away and get a new one."

"Why?"

For a while, there was only silence. "These recordings…they don't really show the worst parts."

"Which was…?" Kirk asked, his hands still on McCoy's arms. And he intended not to let loose, not being completely sure at the moment if his friend wouldn't do something stupid.

"As long as she was there, I could handle it. I had something to focus on, to react to. I could say something — except for the transport, she never gagged me. But once she was gone…"

Kirk could feel the shiver that ran through McCoy's body, and pulled him a little closer, away from the handrail.

"I never knew if she'd come back. I couldn't do a thing but wait in the dark, absolutely helplessly. And it got worse when she started to…use me and then simply left, and I ended up lying in a big mess. There's little that makes you more ashamed than…that."

"We're conditioned against that. You know that," Kirk said reasonably.

"Yeah, I know everything. I'm big on post-traumatic syndrome theory," McCoy said. "I'm just not particularly good in handling it for myself."

"The old 'Physician, heal thyself' doesn't work here, Bones. Please, go and see someone. I've got to go back to work soon, and I don't want to leave you here alone all the time."

"I know. It wouldn't do any good."

"Shall I contact someone for you? You're still Starfleet; we could —"

"No," McCoy said sharply. "It would be around the block in no time. No Fleet involvement, Jim." He turned around to face Kirk. "Thanks for your help, but I'll take care of that."

"I'm not sure you will."

"I've got to get busy again. Back to work. My patients —"

"Forget your patients," Kirk stated. "At the moment, there's only one patient you should care about, and that's you."

"I'm not going to let anyone else define me who I am," McCoy almost shouted, and pushed Kirk's arms away.

"Bones —"

"Let me go inside," McCoy snapped and edged his way back into the apartment. Kirk stared after him with a deep frown.

*

They didn't talk any more that night, and Kirk didn't comment on the fact that McCoy once again slept on the chair in the living room. He might feel responsible enough to mother-hen McCoy, but he wasn't going to let himself get slapped again for it.

When he went up in the morning, he found McCoy already awake and dressed, staring out of the kitchen window with a cup of coffee in his hand.

"Good morning," Kirk said.

"Morning, Jim."

Kirk poured some coffee for himself. "What are you thinking about?"

"I thought about my future." McCoy turned around to face him. "Got an offer for a practice on Alandrin two weeks ago. Think I'll take it."

"Alandrin?" Kirk put his cup aside to get some milk.

"A moon in the outer rim."

Kirk turned to face him, shaking his head in disbelief. "You're trying to flee, Bones. You're trying to handle this all on your own, but it won't work."

"Thanks, Dr. Kirk, for your diagnosis," McCoy said caustically and put his cup away.

"That's psychology 101. Don't need to be an expert to see that. Dammit, you should know yourself that this isn't going to work!"

"You're just the man to tell me about therapy, Jim," McCoy said sharply. "How's it been after Sam's death? You just shut us all out, saying not a word about your brother ever again! You've handled all of your personal crises on your own, always. And when I do the same, it's wrong? Fuck it, Jim, you're not my doctor and you're not my captain anymore. If I want to run away and work on a god-forsaken moon in the outer rim, that's my free choice!"

"You're not me, Bones," Kirk said. "It's —"

"Thanks for reminding me," McCoy replied harshly and tried to pass him.

Kirk grabbed McCoy's arm. "I didn't mean it that way."

"In what other way could you mean it?" McCoy blurted out. "I'm the weak, emotional, soft dumbass in all of this. And you're the great hero, fixing everything. And now let my arm go so that I can pack up and leave."

Kirk abruptly let him go, and McCoy's momentum tumbled him against the door frame before he caught himself. "I can't believe that's how you see it," Kirk said, his anger turning into hurt. He sagged back onto one of the kitchen chairs. "Bones, you're my friend. I only wanted to help you."

McCoy looked away. "I know. I'm sorry, Jim. Didn't mean it like that. But can't live with it either right now. Gotta get back on my own feet." He left for his bedroom.

*

When he stepped out of it half an hour later, Kirk still sat in the kitchen. But if McCoy hoped for another attempt to be stopped, he hoped in vain.

"Good luck, Bones," Kirk said.

"Jim." McCoy hesitated for a second, then opened his arms for an embrace. They briefly hugged each other.

"Drop me your new address when you got one, Bones," Kirk said with a small smile. "So that I know your number when I need you."

"I will."

Seconds later, McCoy was gone — out of Kirk's apartment and, possibly, out of his life.


End file.
